Remember that stupid hospital thing? A similar stupid thing happened to me today.
This morning, I went to the court to sign some papers. I was supposed to meet my little brother there. I arrived earlier, and when I tried to enter the building, the soldier on the entrance told me he can't let me in because I'm not wearing a shmagh. I was just like "are you serious?" "I'm wearing a thobe, what the shmagh is for?" I asked him. He told me "these are the rules."
While I was cursing the rules and the people who put them, my brother arrived from college, wearing a navy pair of jeans and a lab coat. I told him what happened, and when he turned his face toward the soldier, and before saying anything, the stupid soldier with his stupid cold smile told my brother "you can get in."
I could not believe it. "He can get in but I can't because I'm not wearing a shmagh?" I asked the soldier, and he said "yes!" I did not want to go back home just to put that ugly piece of clothes on my head, so I borrowed one from another man. It was really unpleasant to have someone else's shmagh on my head, but I was so angry to think about it.
I never have been to the court before. I was thinking about something like Alley McBeal. However, the real image was shockingly different. It was an old, dirty, smelly, small building. The walls were filled with strokes of blue ink from people dirty enough to clean up their fingers on the wall after they used them to stamp the papers. In addition to that, some girls shamelessly wrote their names and phone numbers on the walls. What kind of a girl that is looking for love in such place?
I was there for only 40 minutes, but it was an awful experience. I hope I'll never need to go there again. # »
This morning, I went to the court to sign some papers. I was supposed to meet my little brother there. I arrived earlier, and when I tried to enter the building, the soldier on the entrance told me he can't let me in because I'm not wearing a shmagh. I was just like "are you serious?" "I'm wearing a thobe, what the shmagh is for?" I asked him. He told me "these are the rules."
While I was cursing the rules and the people who put them, my brother arrived from college, wearing a navy pair of jeans and a lab coat. I told him what happened, and when he turned his face toward the soldier, and before saying anything, the stupid soldier with his stupid cold smile told my brother "you can get in."
I could not believe it. "He can get in but I can't because I'm not wearing a shmagh?" I asked the soldier, and he said "yes!" I did not want to go back home just to put that ugly piece of clothes on my head, so I borrowed one from another man. It was really unpleasant to have someone else's shmagh on my head, but I was so angry to think about it.
I never have been to the court before. I was thinking about something like Alley McBeal. However, the real image was shockingly different. It was an old, dirty, smelly, small building. The walls were filled with strokes of blue ink from people dirty enough to clean up their fingers on the wall after they used them to stamp the papers. In addition to that, some girls shamelessly wrote their names and phone numbers on the walls. What kind of a girl that is looking for love in such place?
I was there for only 40 minutes, but it was an awful experience. I hope I'll never need to go there again. # »
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